Read Online The Last Noel by Heather Graham - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Heather Graham
Ads: Link
next closest place was the jewelry and antique shop, and that was certainly closed for the holiday. Mr. Hudson was sick. He had cancer. Her mother had told her sadly that he was going to L.A. for the holidays, and that sometime during January, he and Ethan, his son, would come back together and close up for good, transferring what remained of the stock out to California, where Ethan and his wife now lived. After thatâ¦
Another human being was at least five miles away.
There was no hope of driving the cars; they were in the garage and the snow had already blocked the door. Sheâd had high hopes for the invadersâ car, which was how sheâd come to discover Craig in the first place. But even if he hadnât been in it, even if she hadnât been stunned into shock, she couldnât have driven it anywhere. Its nosedive into a snowbank had left the hood accordioned. That car was going nowhere.
Obviously they intended to steal a car when the snow cleared. A car no one would needâbecause they wouldnât leave anyone aliveâ¦.
Stop, she commanded herself. She didnât know who these men were. Maybe they were so confident of their ability to get away that they didnât care if anyone knew their names. Yes, they carried guns, but that didnât mean they would use them.
But they might. There was one dead lamp upstairs to prove it.
At least it was just a lamp. At least the scrawny bastard who called himself Scooter hadnât shot a member of her family. Yet.
Breathe, she told herself. Breathe. Think.
All right, so she couldnât get help because she couldnât get anywhere alive. And dead, she would do them no good at all. But she wasnât doing anyone any good hovering in the basement, either.
If only her father kept a gun.
But he didnât.
Heâd never even kept a gun at the pub, joking that he and her mother might shoot each other. But the truth was, he didnât believe in guns. He didnât like them. He had always been afraid that if you drew a gun and didnât kill your enemy immediately, that gun might be taken away and turned on you or another innocent. Besides, the pub was a stoneâs throw from a police station.
So there was no prayer of finding a gun in the house, but how did you combat a gun without a gun of your own?
There had to be a way.
She moved carefully up to the pantry, then stood dead still, listening. Voices didnât filter back this far with any clarity, but she could tell they were all in the living room, and she could hear the man named Scooter speaking, followed by her mother. After a minute her ears became attuned to the acoustics, and she began to make out parts of their sentences.
âYou took a nasty blowâ¦head,â her mother said. âI cleanedâ¦have quite a cut thereâ¦your hairline. Youâ¦careful not to sleep for a while.â
âHeâs all right. Dinnerâ¦getting cold,â Scooter complained.
âYouâre the oneâ¦hadâ¦out for him,â Quintin snapped.
âI couldâ¦frozenâ¦death!â
That was Craigâs voice. And he had snapped back at Quintin, apparently comfortable enough with the other man to show his anger. Her heart sank. He was with them.
âLetâsâ¦back to the kitchen,â Quintin said.
âI needâ¦first aid kit away,â Jamie said.
âLeave it,â Quintin told him.
âWhat shouldâ¦do with him?â Scooter asked.
Him? Kat frowned, then realized with relief that he had to be talking about Craig.
âHeâ¦stayâ¦stareâ¦tree for a while,â Quintin said.
Kat heard shuffling and people talking over each other, presumably getting Craig settled in the living room, followed by the sounds of everyone else returning to the kitchen. Without a planâor a weaponâshe knew it was time to retreat. She used the sound of their approach to cover her own escape back up the servantsâ stairs to
Another human being was at least five miles away.
There was no hope of driving the cars; they were in the garage and the snow had already blocked the door. Sheâd had high hopes for the invadersâ car, which was how sheâd come to discover Craig in the first place. But even if he hadnât been in it, even if she hadnât been stunned into shock, she couldnât have driven it anywhere. Its nosedive into a snowbank had left the hood accordioned. That car was going nowhere.
Obviously they intended to steal a car when the snow cleared. A car no one would needâbecause they wouldnât leave anyone aliveâ¦.
Stop, she commanded herself. She didnât know who these men were. Maybe they were so confident of their ability to get away that they didnât care if anyone knew their names. Yes, they carried guns, but that didnât mean they would use them.
But they might. There was one dead lamp upstairs to prove it.
At least it was just a lamp. At least the scrawny bastard who called himself Scooter hadnât shot a member of her family. Yet.
Breathe, she told herself. Breathe. Think.
All right, so she couldnât get help because she couldnât get anywhere alive. And dead, she would do them no good at all. But she wasnât doing anyone any good hovering in the basement, either.
If only her father kept a gun.
But he didnât.
Heâd never even kept a gun at the pub, joking that he and her mother might shoot each other. But the truth was, he didnât believe in guns. He didnât like them. He had always been afraid that if you drew a gun and didnât kill your enemy immediately, that gun might be taken away and turned on you or another innocent. Besides, the pub was a stoneâs throw from a police station.
So there was no prayer of finding a gun in the house, but how did you combat a gun without a gun of your own?
There had to be a way.
She moved carefully up to the pantry, then stood dead still, listening. Voices didnât filter back this far with any clarity, but she could tell they were all in the living room, and she could hear the man named Scooter speaking, followed by her mother. After a minute her ears became attuned to the acoustics, and she began to make out parts of their sentences.
âYou took a nasty blowâ¦head,â her mother said. âI cleanedâ¦have quite a cut thereâ¦your hairline. Youâ¦careful not to sleep for a while.â
âHeâs all right. Dinnerâ¦getting cold,â Scooter complained.
âYouâre the oneâ¦hadâ¦out for him,â Quintin snapped.
âI couldâ¦frozenâ¦death!â
That was Craigâs voice. And he had snapped back at Quintin, apparently comfortable enough with the other man to show his anger. Her heart sank. He was with them.
âLetâsâ¦back to the kitchen,â Quintin said.
âI needâ¦first aid kit away,â Jamie said.
âLeave it,â Quintin told him.
âWhat shouldâ¦do with him?â Scooter asked.
Him? Kat frowned, then realized with relief that he had to be talking about Craig.
âHeâ¦stayâ¦stareâ¦tree for a while,â Quintin said.
Kat heard shuffling and people talking over each other, presumably getting Craig settled in the living room, followed by the sounds of everyone else returning to the kitchen. Without a planâor a weaponâshe knew it was time to retreat. She used the sound of their approach to cover her own escape back up the servantsâ stairs to
Similar Books
